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2013.05.24 - Returning to Normal
While the students haven't been keen to the specifics of it, Ororo Munroe has been somewhat distant lately. That is, more distant than her usual stoic-weather-goddess-act. Since her return after being rescued from an extreme human-run Genoshan sect by a mysterious older man, she's made a few changes- most obviously shaving her head into the mohawk style she'd worn for a while in her younger days, sleeping outside whenever able, and paying even closer attention to international news than usual. However, things have slowly been returning to... well. Whatever you can call normal for a mohawked, white-haired weather goddess-slash-social studies teacher. With no classes to teach this period (now that she's returned to teaching), she's slipped out into the Atrium with a stack of student essays on climate change, a red pen, and a travel mug full of herbal tea. Jean's had her own adventures, lately, truth be told. Though, perhaps, they're not quite as harrowing as Genoshan captivity. Though, trying to explain to your family (especially your seminary-student younger brother) just how you happened to 'come back from the dead', can be a bit challenging. Most of that, however, is behind her. And, with the school year winding down and finals just around the corner, she's got her own stack of marking to do. Hers, however, is upstairs in her office. When she enters the Atrium, however, it's from the front doors to the mansion, not any of the classrooms. Other business necessitated she leave the science classes to the professor, today, and take a jaunt into the city. Now returned, she's happy to be back in the familiar surrounds. Nevertheless, as she notes her friend, shaven as she is, sitting in the open, the telepath's footsteps slow and she alters her course. "Ororo," she greets her. "Hi... How you doing?" It's more a greeting than a conscious inquiry, but they've been friends long enough that Jean will repeat it as such, if needs be. Storm's office has remained mostly unused since her return. She's even to taken to teaching classes outside on nicer days (and, perhaps once or twice, /made/ the day a bit nicer for the sake of teaching outside). Her students, have, thankfully just written this off as their teacher being a bit of a hippie (has there ever been a social studies teacher who wasn't?) and not a sign of her having panic attacks in closed spaces. "Jean," she greets her friend warmly. "Oh, quite good today, actually. The classroom was feeling a bit stuffy, but I've not had to leave during classes at all." An improvement over her first week back to teaching. "I'm starting to quite enjoy it, actually." A pause, and a frown towards the essay in her hands now, marked with quite a few notes in red. "Well. Most of it." There's always at least /one/ in every class. Jean laughs knowingly at that. "Oh, I bet I can guess whose that is," she says, not even needing to see the name or read her friend's mind. Students do get reputations, after all, and certain patterns of correction are often repeated. She comes to sit beside her friend, now. "I'm glad to hear it, though. I know it's been tough the past couple of weeks." She knows better than to express anything akin to pity or undue sympathy to the proud weather goddess. But, empathy? That's different. Jean understands because, on some level, she's been there. Not with the same issues, of course, or the same circumstances, but just about every X-Man (X-Woman!) has had some sort of trauma that still wakes them up at night. "I'm glad it's getting better, at least." "How about yourself? I can't imagine things have been easy for you, even now." Even the paperwork had to be a /headache/, nevermind all the emotional things tied to coming back from the dead- which has to be even harder for a telepath. "No new and exciting developments this week, I hope." Jean barks a laugh at her friend's question. She can, perhaps, be a little more candid with Storm than she can with others. "Oh, no, nothing exciting... Unless of course, you mean the fact that I met a guy who claimed to be my son from an alternate timeline. Or a clone of him. Or something like that. I don't know. And then there was the girl that called me grandma -- also from an alternate timeline or something, though she's not technically actually related to me." The telepath lets out a faintly aggravated sigh with that. "I hate quantum reality theory," she grumbles quite genuinely. "I suppose I should count myself lucky I've yet to meet a little white-haired child calling me 'Mommy'," Ororo says. "I'd be a little afraid of even asking who the father was, I think," she admits. "Seeing an alternate version of myself die was bad enough." She tries not to think about that too much. Jean can certainly imagine that. Probably because she's actually got memories from an alternate self that died. She grimaces faintly. "Yeah. I don't recommend it. But, hey. Apparently, there's an alternate reality out there where Scott and I didn't break up." A beat. "Or else just forgot to use protection before we did." Well. It's possible. She hasn't admitted it to anyone, yet. But, she's a little pissed at the havoc Phoenix wreaked in her life and her relationships. She still doesn't say it, even now. "Look on the bright side," Ororo offers. "You get to have the joy of seeing your children grown up, without having to experience stretch marks, that unpleasant diaper stage, or the teenage years," she offers. Not that they both don't get enough of 'the teenage years' as it is. Jean gives Ororo a light swat with the back of her fingers across the other woman's arm. It's not hard enough to hurt, but it does express quite eloquently what she thinks of that. "Pfft!" she snirks. "They're not my kids." That may seem harsh, but, "I don't care what anyone says. They're not. Their mothers might have looked like me, but they weren't me. I've got enough challenges of my own, without adding all that to it." She does relent a little, though. "Which doesn't mean I wouldn't look out for them." Because she will. She can't help it. It's in her nature. At the end of the day, though, she just doesn't want to believe the future is as doomed as her 'children's' tales suggest. So, she changes the subject, bringing it back around to 'Ro. "I see you cut your hair, again..." "Mhm," Ororo nods and runs a hand through (what is left of) her hair. "Some of it got torn out in Genosha, and this was easier than trying to cover that up, or get a weave," she admits. "I never realize how heavy having that much hair is until I get rid of it. I think I'll keep it like this for the summer, at least. Maybe trim the rest and keep it natural for a while after that." She lets her lips twitch in a bit of a smile. "It /was/ fun seeing the look on the students' faces my first day back with it like this." Jean chuckles softly at that. "Oh, I know. I think I heard the buzzing clear across the grounds." A hundred little minds going *pop-pop-pop*. How could she miss it? Her own hair is still long, though not quite as wild as how the Phoenix Entity liked it. Certainly, it no longer curls like it's continually caught in a light wind. At least, it doesn't unless there actually is a light wind. And she's good with that. She meets her friend's white gaze. "When I heard it was Genosha, I... I'm so glad you're back safe." If she'd know at the time, she just might have been willing to risk the Phoenix's power to bring her back. But, she had no way to know at the time. So, it is as it was. "It was... difficult," Ororo admits, understating things, as usual. "It's one of those things I try not to linger on, but waking up with anything but the sky above me is still... unsettling, now. I imagine it will be a few months before I'm using my bedroom for anything but somewhere to keep my clothing." And then, an attempt at a joke, "at least I've not regressed to the point of rejecting wearing sufficient amounts of it. I imagine I'd have taken longer to return to teaching if that were the case." Again, Jean chuckles softly. "Yeah," she concedes. "No doubt." The telepath gives the weather-witch an understanding smile. "If the nightmares get too bad, or you do have problems, you know where to find me. I'll do what I can to help." Professor Xavier, she's not, but she's no slouch at psychic surgery, herself. "I may take you up on that if I've not gotten the sleep problem under control in a few weeks," she says. "I'm still not sure if I caused the brief rainfall we had last night or not. But, given I've yet to do any serious property damage, I /should/ be able to handle it." Though she'll probably come sooner if she causes any sort of overnight frost- for the sake of the poor, poor plants, obviously. Jean nods lightly, reaching over to give 'Ro's shoulder a light squeeze. "Make sure you do," she bids -- as both a friend and the team medic. "The kids will be disappointed if Memorial Day isn't spectacularly sunny and warm." Pool party, barbecue... all the usual fun in the sun type things, followed up by fireworks, after all. "I will," she promises, then frowns as she spots the time. "I should go fetch the projector for next period before I'm stuck with the one that keeps flickering," she says, just before collecting her papers. "You wouldn't think that would bother my eyes so much, considering I can summon lightning, but it does give me a headache after about ten minutes," she admits. "I'll stop by your office later with some tea." Category:Log